


grow from the inside, destroy from the inside

by pendules



Category: Inception (2010), Social Network (2010)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cobb & co. are hired to perform an extraction on Eduardo's father. For the sake of thoroughness, Arthur decides to keep an eye on his son's activities, and he ends up becoming more involved than he ever should be - with anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grow from the inside, destroy from the inside

_You're the finest thing that I've done, the hurricane I'll never outrun  
I could wait around for the dust to still, but I don't believe that it ever will_   
( **Hurricane** \- The Hush Sound )

 

He's a billionaire who still rides the subway. After a while, Arthur decides this is still not the most interesting thing about him. Sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, he looks unsure, he looks uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in his Armani, uncomfortable being who he is. Arthur's looking, though. It's his job. Arthur sees him adjusting his tie over the business section he's using as a shield today; he's nervous about something. He's picked up on the signs and they almost always correspond to something big happening on his schedule. Arthur's pretty sure when he walks into the building, though, no one will be able to notice a thing.

Arthur remembers the first time he put on a really nice suit. It was after his first job, after his first nice crisp paycheck with more zeros than he'd ever seen before. Arthur's been wearing them because of the company he keeps, or has to pretend to keep, or has to screw over eventually. It's white collar crime after all — they have to keep up appearances.

Eduardo wears them because they're practically all he's ever seen his father, and people like his father, wear, as far back as he can remember.

Both of them are pretending to be people they're not.

 

So, he's not supposed to talk to subjects extensively. Or maybe that's a made-up rule. But it's a rule he's followed for as long as he can remember. He keeps his distance. He's there to observe. He's there to be unnoticed. There'll be enough talking within the dreams. Arthur's not really that great at interacting outside of them. Maybe it's not as bad as what Cobb has to deal with, but this, this line of work, it takes its toll. Of course, he doesn't ever show it.

 

They talk for half an hour the first time. Eduardo talks a lot, but he always seems to be hyper-aware of whoever he's talking to at the same time — making sure he's not boring them or being rude. He stops abruptly, and Arthur feels a jolt, like he instantly misses the sound of his voice, faint trace of that warm, friendly Brazilian accent and all. It's strange. None of it's useful, really, and the personal details are nothing he doesn't already know — but there's something so engaging about him.

"I'm sorry," he says, looking kind of surprised. "I don't usually talk this much. Too much caffeine today or something."

He smiles apologetically, and Arthur has to repeat all his lies a few more times in his head.

He's never had to do that before.

("Yeah, I work in insurance."

"I'm only in town for a couple weeks for a business thing."

"I don't really stay in one place for long."

That last one is a truth though.)

 

Arthur ends up with Eduardo's number (and he had to give his own — not wanting to be rude), and promises to meet him again before he leaves town, for a real drink this time maybe.

They run into each other before then, though. The next morning, and the next.

"I like the bagels here," Arthur explains.

Eduardo laughs.

They talk for a while every morning and then Eduardo heads off to his job, and Arthur goes to the rented warehouse to meet up with the team.

He tells himself it's nothing — nothing happened and it's nothing _useful_ — so no one needs to know.

 

It's a pretty simple job. Involves only two levels. The target, Mr. Saverin is typical in almost every way. He's had some level of training, but Cobb thinks they can handle it. He says that he doesn't even think the family is relevant, but Arthur is thorough if he is nothing else. He's had a strained relationship with his son since a lawsuit a couple years back involving him and his former best friend over ownership of some multibillion dollar website. Arthur's heard of Facebook, of course, but a source of reliable, _useful_ information? Probably not. And that's all he cares about when it comes to using the internet. The aforementioned former best friend seems to have some serious hacking prowess though, so he gains some respect there from Arthur, who definitely knows the value of a good hacker.

The son, though. Eduardo. He seems to be doing okay for himself too, apart from the reinstated shares in Facebook which make him a billionaire. Arthur's interested, for some reason. And he's kind of bored. He gets kind of anxious during jobs when there's not much to do on his end — so he devotes some time to it, and quite easily figures out Eduardo Saverin's routine.

It's not stalking. Not really. If it were, Eduardo never would have seen a trace of him. He wouldn't have literally bumped into him in the coffee shop and used his quick reflexes to grab Eduardo's cup before it hit the ground; he wouldn't have stammered apologies while Eduardo did the same; he would never have come back the next day and sat with him and stared at his mouth while he talked and absorbed every word.

When he thinks about it afterwards, he decides he was just lonely. And he'd realised pretty early on that Eduardo was too.

 

A week before the job, Eduardo sees him on the subway for the first time. He's going back to his apartment after work, Arthur knows, and he doesn't look too surprised, having already established that Arthur's staying not very far from where he lives.

"Hey," he says, smiling up at him.

Arthur takes a seat next to him, studying the book he has in his hand, one finger in between the pages, marking his place.

"Hurricane Tracking? Really?"

"I like meteorology," he shrugs. "And I like patterns. I like being able to predict things. I like knowing things in advance."

"You like being prepared," Arthur finishes.

"Yeah. Yes."

"Me too."

"I've been stupid though. Sometimes. About people." He looks kind of worried then, like he thinks he's said too much.

"Yeah, it's always the people, isn't it? Biggest problem in the world."

Eduardo laughs. Arthur cracks a rare smile.

"You know," Eduardo says, "we never did go for that drink."

"Are you asking me out?"

"Yeah, I think I am."

 

They don't make it through two drinks. They sit by the bar and the Eduardo's more touchy-feely than usual. He looks kind of sad, actually, or just tired. He doesn't say much, just sips his drink, and somehow his hand ends up on Arthur's thigh, and it feels comfortable there — familiar somehow. And he leans in too close to hear what Arthur's saying when he does say something. He smiles a little, nods, and Arthur can feel his warmth, his breath on his face. A hand comes up, almost of its own volition to touch his cheek, and Eduardo suddenly grows serious, leans in even closer and whispers in his ear, "Let's get out of here."

Arthur doesn't need more persuading.

"My hotel," he says.

 

And it's weird, both of them wearing suit jackets, ties, shirts still buttoned all the way up and tucked in, immaculate, all of it (Arthur always in that fucking three piece suit), and it's a task to get all of it off, and Eduardo sort of laughs into his mouth because it's fucking ridiculous how hard it is to reach skin (it only makes them want it more, though). Arthur makes this noise in the back of his throat, and then he's backing him up against a wall, hands tangling in Eduardo's hair. Eduardo gasps, and Arthur bites down on his lip and he makes another sound between pleasure and pain that only encourages him more.

It still takes a long time to get everything off — enough time to leave some marks, some bruises, in visible places.

It's worth it.

 

"I like that you care about people," he whispers into his hair, afterwards.

Arthur's forgotten how to do that, someway along the way.

 

He starts talking later, and it's definitely useful. But he won't use it; he can't.

"My father's, uh, in town this week," he says. "Business. Yeah. I don't know why he even called to let me know. We'll just meet for dinner one night and hardly say two words to each other. And then he'll just take off again."

Arthur says, "I'm sorry." _I'm sorry that I'll be gone then too. I'm sorry to leave you, and I'm sorry I did this._

Then, "I'm sorry," again.

"I'm sorry." And, "I hope it gets better someday."

Because he is. And he does.

Eduardo looks at him strangely for a second, but then he smiles a little, says, "Yeah, yeah. Thanks. I don't know. Maybe."

 

Arthur watches him sleep the first two times. It's not until the third that he watches his dreams.

 

The next day is the job.

Arthur stares at him for a long while. He's on the other side of the street. And Arthur knows that he brought him here.

"Hey, that's the kid, isn't it?" Cobb says, when he notices Arthur's stopped. "Father's projection?"

Eduardo looks right at Arthur, looks at him with so much pain in his eyes.

He knows what has to happen, he always knew. He was selfish. It was the worst thing he's ever done. He fucking hates it, this person he's become. And Eduardo had cared about him, truly cared. He still does, the real one, out there. But he won't much longer. Maybe he'll stop trusting people altogether now. Maybe that's the best thing for everyone.

It's always the people.

"Yeah," Arthur says, "guess it must be."

He's still looking at him. Arthur wishes for the first time that it could be different.

He turns away, follows Cobb down the street.

 

They're in the coffee shop again.

"Eduardo."

He smiles, says, "Hey. I was wondering —" Then, quickly, "What's wrong?" as he looks up from his newspaper to Arthur's solemn expression.

"Your dreams are," Arthur replies.

"What... What are you talking about?" He folds up his paper and rests it next to his coffee mug, looking concerned.

Arthur sits down, rests his hand on Eduardo's, in what could be a gesture of urgency or comfort (both maybe).

Eduardo just looks at him, genuinely confused, and it breaks his fucking heart for a minute — but he has to do this. He has to do something he's never done before: compromise the mission, compromise the team, compromise himself and everything he's worked for, everything he's done to be who he is and belong to this world.

"The coffee shop," he says, because it's the first thing he thinks, the place it all started. And Eduardo looks at him pointedly, and then looks around, but Arthur squeezes his hand gently to regain his attention.

"I was here that first time, because _you_ were here."

"What? Arthur, what do you mean?"

"I was following you. Well, not following you, really, because I knew where you would be. All the time. Every second, of every day."

Eduardo tries to pull his hand away then, but Arthur grips it tighter.

"What are you _saying_?" Eduardo manages to get out after a couple moments of shock or anger or disgust, or all three.

"Listen to me. Please. Just for a second." Arthur's never begged for anything. Well, he has, but this Arthur, the person he is now, doesn't do that, will not do that anymore. But he has to make him understand, and he'll do anything now.

"You've heard about extraction," he says, looking at him intently.

He gives him a second to process it, to say, "But —"

"It's real," Arthur says. "Very real."

"No, that can't —"

"Your father knows about it. Your friend, or should I say former friend, Mr. Zuckerberg knows about it. They've both protected themselves from it. But we...we performed an extraction on your father."

" _We_? You did this? You _do_ this?"

"Yes. My job is to find out everything there is to know about our targets. Your father, in this case. Everything and anything that would make it easier to find what we're looking for."

"And me? You did all of this to get information about my father?" He's angry now, really angry, but Arthur knows soon it will hurt him like he's seen in his projection — and it'll be all his fault. He'll always remember that, but — but he doesn't want Eduardo to have to deal with it. Not forever.

"Yes, yes. And I'm so sorry. I've seen your dreams. I know you've been hurt. And now I've hurt you again. I have to go. You can't know about this. When you wake up, you won't remember this."

A single tear spills down Arthur's face.

"What? I'm dreaming?" Eduardo says, and already the tables are starting to shake, coffee rippling in cups, glass windows vibrating in that way you associate with earthquakes — and fuck, he doesn't have a lot of time now.

"You're going to wake up. And I'll be gone. I'm sorry. Goodbye, Eduardo."

Arthur reaches over the table to press a kiss to Eduardo's forehead, and then the floor, the walls, the windows all collapse along with the dream.

 

It's not the only level though.

Eduardo wakes up on a beach in Brazil.

Arthur's there. He's only a projection. But it's the last time he'll ever see him.

Eduardo takes his hand at the edge of the water, and they look out to the horizon, standing perfectly still as the sand buries their feet.


End file.
